Stray
by GoldenfeatherKyru
Summary: Put simply, the tale of a boy with one hand, living in Panem during the time of the Hunger Games.


"THEIF!" the butcher roared, waving his cleaver after the black haired boy. "STOP HIM!"

Ara tore down the street with chunks of meat in his hand, exhilarated from his successful snatch-and-run from the butcher. _Meat! It's been so long since I last ate anything, but to get meat? It __**is**__ a good day!_

Indeed, the sun was shining, the air was crisp, and the birds were singing; it seemed as if nothing could possibly go wrong. Ara glanced behind him to see not only the butcher, but several of the other shopkeepers and customers chasing after him, shouting curses and accusations. It was clear though, that he was pulling away from them- being smaller, it was easier for him to squeeze between people and market stalls. His blue eyes twinkled with laughter his success and he rounded a corner, only to fall down and drop his prize, running smack dab into a squad of Peacekeepers.

"What do we have here?" the captain drawled, as two of his men moved forward and picked up Ara, each holding an arm in a viselike grip. "I know what this looks like to me," he taunted, watching the pursuers crowd up to the corner as their angry expressions quickly turned to fear for the boy. "Oy, Princeton!" the captain, shouted back over his shoulder. "What's this look like to you?"

"Looks like a {Thief} to me, sir" A man with one ear replied mockingly, mimicking the Butcher's earlier calls, as the Butcher himself rounded the corner, his face, flushed from exertion, quickly turning pale.

"My thoughts exactly," said the captain to no one in particular. "Do you know what we do to thieves here in District 11?" He turned to Ara and laughed in his bloodless face while Ara did his best to try not to whimper or disgrace himself. "You sure look like you do!" the captain laughed. "You there!" he addressed the butcher. "Hand over that big knife of yours." When the butcher hesitated, the captain grinned even more wickedly, his voice dripping with malice. "What's this? Disobeying a direct order from an officer of Panem? That sounds like… rebellion!" The butcher practically tripped over himself in fear, offering the captain the cleaver, his mouth denying, apologizing, thanking, even flattering the captain, who, after receiving the blade, paid no more attention to the man then he would to a fly. The captain slowly turned back to Ara, who started screaming and thrashing about in the Peacekeepers' grips. "Hold him down!" the captain ordered Ara's captors, who did just that, pressing him spread-eagle, face down onto the ground, while he screamed and fought with all his might, but to no avail. The captain stood over Ara, repeating the words he had been taught by his trainers in District 2. "By the Power vested in me by the Glorious Republic of Panem, I declare you a Thief, and mark you as such!" All but the stoutest members of the audience looked away as the cleaver swung down, and made a sickening dull thunk.

Ara screamed louder than ever, as pain tore down his arm and he lost all conscious control of his body. The last thing he heard was the captain telling one of Ara's captors: "Shut him up, I can't stand that infernal screaming." Ara felt a quick burst of pain, this time at the back of his skull as his vision turned from white to black and he passed into blissful unconsciousness.

Ara woke up screaming, the pain from earlier crashing over him. He thrashed about- at least he tried to until he realized that for all his work, his body merely twitched, and each little movement sent waves of pain rolling down his left arm. "Hush, hush little one." A woman's voice said gently, and Ara stopped struggling and bit down on his screams as he looked around for the speaker as well as he could with an unresponsive body, his eyes settling on a middle aged woman sitting beside the bed. _A bed? How did I get onto a bed? Where am I? Who is she? What happened? Why can't I move?_ As Ara struggled to put his thoughts into words, the woman placed a thick finger across his lips and shushed him. "Quiet, little one; it's too early for you to be awake." She reached over to a small table next to the bed and picked up a small cup. "Your body won't work right, but what I gave you slows the bleeding. Now, drink this and sleep." She said, pressing the cup to Ara's lips and slowly pouring its contents into his mouth as he drank greedily. The medicine acted quickly, and Ara felt his eyelids start to droop almost immediately. As he drifted off, Ara's head fell to the left, offering him full view of his left arm, ending in a bloodstained rag where his hand had once been. _That's strange_, he thought, _It doesn't hurt as much as I would've thought it would. _Ara felt an odd sense of completion, as if losing his hand made him whole, somehow, as his eyes closed.

* * *

><p>Welcome to the story of Ara. Let me begin by saying that I don't have much free time to write, so updates will likely be few and far between. I apologize for any inconvenience this may cause.<p>

I'm entertaining two different ideas for this story's progress, so if you want to play a part in the path of "Stray" send me a message with either a 1 or a 2. (As if I would give away the paths that the story can take :P) Or, If I can manage to figure out how to make a poll, use that to vote.

As for me, I am short on time, like always, and so, I bid you farewell and good luck until our next meeting. Reviews are always appreciated, even flames [let's me know how many are extremely unhappy with the story]

As ever,

**G**oldenfeather Kyru


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